Real Food
by DNAisUnique
Summary: Set during "The Dwarf in the Dirt."
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks for all the feedback for previous fics! Reviews/Favorites/Alerts are always welcome! The following takes place between the kitchen scene of "The Dwarf in the Dirt." Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

Booth looked down at his plate. In Booth's estimation, Gordon Gordon had been absolutely right in reference to the appearance of the "food." It looked like sperm on a plate. Booth chanced a glance at Brennan, somewhat surprised to find a look of disgust on her face, obviously doubting the edibleness of the plate's contents. One more glance at his own plate was enough to make up his mind. "Diner?" he grinned.

"I thought you'd never ask," she replied. "But what about Gordon Gordon? Won't he be offended that we didn't eat…" she looked at her plate then back up at Booth, "…this?"

"Nah, he's Gordon Gordon. He doesn't get offended. Come on, let's get outta here, Bones," he said, standing and offering her his hand.

She pulled the napkin from her lap and tossed it onto the table, intentionally covering her plate in the process, then stood, barely resisting the urge to take Booth's proffered hand.

"Where are you going?" Wyatt called after them as they made their way across the kitchen toward the exit. "You didn't even try it?"

"I'm sure your gigantic sperm is delicious and all…" Booth began.

"It's not really sperm, Booth," Brennan interrupted with a whispering gesture, even though she nearly had to yell over the noise in the kitchen.

"I know that, Bones," Booth replied is the same whispering-yet-yelling mode. "He's the one who said they looked like sperm."

"Ah, but looks can be deceiving, Agent Booth," Wyatt supplied.

"I'll just take your word on it, because I'm not eating that," Booth said, forehead wrinkling adamantly, as he pointed back at the table.

"But in all your time in the Army," Wyatt interjected, "you must've eaten things that looked worse than that."

"Not by choice. I did it out of survival."

"And you, Dr. Brennan. You're an anthropologist. Aren't you even the slightest bit intrigued by it's taste?"

"As a forensic anthropologist, I study bones and customs of a variety of cultures…"

"So you'll try it before Agent Booth whisks you away to the diner you two are so fond of acquainting?" Wyatt asked hopefully.

"How'd he know we're going to the diner?" Brennan whisper-yelled at Booth.

"Simple deduction, really," Wyatt informed them. "We're creatures of habit, and when confronted with the unknown, we tend to seek out that which makes us comfortable. An act of righting the ship, so to speak. The diner represents Agent Booth's and your comfort place."

Booth chuckled. "My comfort place is kicked back on the couch in my sweats, beer in hand, watching the game."

"And yet, you're at the diner with Dr. Brennan more often than you're at home. Tells me that your comfort place is with Dr. Brennan."

Booth quickly glanced at Brennan and cleared his throat. "I didn't know chefs felt the need to share their opinions on the matter," he directed at Wyatt.

"Touché, Agent Booth," Wyatt replied with a hearty chuckle. "Touché."

"Besides," Booth continued, "I'm a burger and fries kind of guy. I need meat and potatoes. Real food. You know, something…"

"American?" Wyatt grinned.

"Exactly!" Booth replied.

"No offense to your dish of…giant sperm," Brennan added, glancing over at Booth. "Was that an appropriate use of the colloquialism? Because I meant that as a joke."

Booth laughed and placed his hand on the small of Brennan's back. "Yeah, Bones. Great job."

Wyatt chuckled too. "Are you sure you don't want to try it, Dr. Brennan?"

"Perhaps another time. Right now, I think I'm in the mood for something…"

"…American?" Booth and Wyatt finished for her, all three sharing a laugh as Booth escorted Brennan from the chef-formerly-known-as-psychiatrist's kitchen.

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading! Should I add a second chapter? Perhaps a conversation between Booth and Brennan? **

**I sincerely hope no one was offended by the 'American' part. I was referencing a scene from the episode! :D**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for the reviews/favorites/alerts. Now onto chapter two! Enjoy!**

**VVVVV**

"So you never told me what favor you wanted," Brennan said, finishing her salad and catching Booth's eye.

Booth offered the few remaining fries to Brennan, not with words, but by tilting his plate toward her, eyebrows raised in question. Brennan declined and Booth shrugged before popping the fries into his mouth.

"So?" Brennan pressed.

Booth chewed and swallowed, studying her before he spoke.

_This is Bones. Why are you so nervous to ask her to do one little thing?_ Booth wondered. He already had confirmation that she would do him a favor; she'd said as much back in Gordon Gordon's kitchen. But why couldn't he find the _actual_ words now?

Though Booth still appeared to be looking at Brennan, his eyes were unfocused as he drifted into a world of his own.

Brennan waved her hand in front of Booth's face, trying to regain his attention. "Hello? Anyone home?"

The words, sounding unusual coming from Brennan, were apparently enough to get Booth refocused. "Another colloquialism, Bones?"

Brennan grinned. "I learned that one from Parker."

"Yeah, that sounds like something he'd say," Booth agreed, nodding his head.

"Now that I've got your attention, what's the favor, Booth?"

"It's stupid, really," he began.

"If it's important enough to bother you, it's not stupid."

"I've got my recertification in the morning…"

"I know, that's all you've talked about. You're still worried because you didn't get enough practice?"

"I want you to come with me."

"It's not going to do you any good to start practicing tonight."

"Not tonight, Bones. I want you there with me in the morning. At my recertification."

"Wouldn't my presence be a hindrance to you? Make you more nervous?"

"It's okay, you don't have to come."

Brennan reached across the table and grasped Booth's hand. "Did I say that I wouldn't go with you?"

"Really, Bones, it's fine," Booth replied, trying to pull his hand away from her vise grip.

Suddenly, something clicked in Brennan's brain. "Is this about what Gordon Gordon said? That your comfort place is with me?"

Booth chuckled wryly. "You listen to him now that he's a chef?"

Brennan smirked, still keeping hold of his hand. "What time are you picking me up?"

"Really?" Booth grinned, eyes alight with excitement.

"Just last week you sat here and said that you'd do anything for me. Why wouldn't I be willing to do the same for you?"

"So you're only doing this because I…"

"I'm doing this because you asked me to. Because I want to, Booth. Now quit being pedantic before I change my mind."

"Thanks, Bones!" Booth exclaimed, knowing from the grin plastered on Brennan's face that there was no way she'd change her mind.

"Anytime, Booth. Because that's how we roll."

Gaze still locked, their eyes danced with laughter, even as they fought to keep from laughing out loud. The corners of each of their mouths twitched simultaneously, and they could no longer keep from laughing.

"Too much?" Brennan asked.

Booth nodded. "I'm gonna need some time to get used to you speaking slang."

"That'll come quickly, Booth. After all, I _am_ your comfort place."

Booth didn't deny it, just simply continued to grin at her, basking in the contact of their still-grasped hands.

**VVVVV**

**Thanks for reading!**


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